She wanted you to be happy.
When my mother (who doesn’t like to cook) said she had my nana’s
old cookbook since her passing and did I want it, right away I said yes.
She delivered THE RUMFORD COMPLETE COOKBOOK by LILLY
HAXWORTH WALLACE (a lecturer and writer on home economics).
A tattered volume was held together by scotch tape on the binding.
The original copyright was 1908, but this edition had been printed by the
Rumford Company of R.I. in the year 1934. The pages had yellowed from age. Some
had torn edges. Others had food stains.
On several blank pages, she’d handwritten recipes. Just
seeing her handwriting brought her back to me for a few minutes. I miss having her in our lives and it's hard to believe she'd been gone twenty years.
As I read through the book, it was the simplicity of the
recipes that grabbed me. My personal belief is that sometimes the best dishes
are made with the fewest ingredients. Cooking in 1939 appeared to be
uncomplicated and basic. Then it struck me how, like everywhere else in life, things
have become more complex so why how we cook.
Nostalgia lead me into my own cabinets, where I found the
first cookbook I ever owned…The BETTY CROCKER COOKY BOOK, given to me by my
mother’s friend back in 1972 (at age thirteen) for Christmas. The gift was a treasure
not only for the content. It mattered to me that someone noticed how much I
loved cooking. Condition-wise, this, too, is well on its way to the same fate
as my grandmother’s recipe book. The type of wear and tear that comes from
giving something too much attention.
Life changes. The cookbooks in our house chronicle more than
just food trends. They say something larger about the world around us and even
our own lives. And when I think about my relationship with cooking, I see
how—like my grandmother—cooking is one way I let the people I care about know
it.
Got any cookbook treasures in your closet?
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